


Just Like Old Times

by wisterinite



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, In between Season 2 and Season 3 i think, Slow Build, Uncle Scrooge McDuck, but they might care about eachother a bit haha, equally grumpy Donald, grumpy uncle scrooge, they both hate eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisterinite/pseuds/wisterinite
Summary: Scrooge and Donald have to go on a mission with just the two of them, if just to keep Scrooge from going by himself. Donald hates a majority of it. The two of them face the freezing cold and are faced with images of their past, and must choose between their stubbornness and life or death.Some Uncle Scrooge-centric writing, because I need it.
Relationships: Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	1. The Begrudging Dance

That’s what he said, while they packed their belongings and get ready for any deadly situations: ‘Just like old times.’ It was in repeating what his sister had said, whilst she first began packing, before she stopping due to the unforeseen circumstances, but-should-have-totally-been-foreseen, of trouble with the triplets+Webby.

Donald, in conclusion, was ecstatic. He rubbed his hand slowly down his face, just to hide it from the truth which reality was becoming. Another suicide mission, with Scrooge McDuck. Hooray. Woo-oo. He stood in the foyer, his duck-bill snapping up as he let it go, people scurrying back and forth, and Scrooge, any minute now, walking down the stairs and to the plane. 

The Northeast of God-knows-what country needed backup while their attackers sought some hidden treasure in their lands. They contacted Scrooge, knowing how good he was at retrieving treasures and seeing as they didn’t want any more trouble for it. Obviously Scrooge was up for the task.

It will just be the three of them, Della had said, albeit she’ll be coming a little later on in the game. The triplets had wrapped themselves in a convoluted bet, which Donald had just heard of so to his surprise, where they were too occupied with a dance competition to win back Duey’s camera equipment and company rights less that one rich duck friend of Luey would televise it as his own creation, yada yada…Della wanted to support the three, make sure no one got hurt, and get some pictures of the action. But still, it would technically be an adventure of just the three of them, Scrooge, Donald, and Della, in the end.

“No, it’s fine,” he replied to Della’s worried face, at her concern that she stayed behind for a bit. It was only fair that she got a little extra time with the boys, in order to make up for the whole disappearing into space thing. He cared about her parental integrity, and he had his fair share, so he could back off. The only caveat of this would be being Scrooge’s extra man-power.

“You know, you don’t HAVE to come,” Scrooge said, and Donald, who would usually bite the bullet and say, “Alright, good luck!” the mission seemed too dangerous for only one person to face, said Beakley, looping Donald back into his begrudging state of acceptance. Would it really be that bad if Scrooge finally succumbed to the inevitability of life and death, which the old man so dodged the latter.

Scrooge was dressed in his normal red-robed attire, with a thicker coat hung over his arm, and Beakley hovering closely by with his hat and cane. She handed him a wooly winter hat, giving Donald a clue into what kind of weather they were launching themselves into, as Donald was just barely floating by with everything going on. Donald, pushing his sister’s waving hand away from his face, tipped his head up and he dignified went in the direction of the boat, to also find his coat.

“What’s another crazy mission going to do for us huh?” Donald reassured in Della’s direction, although his annoyed demeanor clearly towards Scrooge. “Let’s get even more treasure (that we don’t need).” He muttered the last parts.

Scrooge, choosing to ignore Donald’s grumpy attitude, chirped “That’s the spirit,” chuckling to himself as he shoved his hat on. Scrooge was always in a better mood when he either A; got some new treasure or B; was about to go search and find said treasure.

As he exited, as soon as he was out of view from his sister’s prying eyes, Donald threw his hands up in the air in frustration. As much as Scrooge had been proving more and more, even if he so loved adventure and hanging out with his family, his strong love for the adventure and treasure itself wore Donald down. The only comfort he had was that Della and the kids were staying out of this one, so if anyone got hurt on this mission, as an annoyance to himself as that would be, he could live with that. Or, maybe he wouldn’t live. Whatever.

Still, Della’s words rang in his ears with ‘just like old times,’ like a mantra that was supposed to be comforting. He had said something similar in the past, when he first came to the manor with his boat house. Sure, those times in the very past were fun, but Della and Donald were also kids then, with less responsibilities and less people to worry about not returning to. What if, instead of Donald being left behind with three eggs cradled in his arms in the fate that Della hadn’t returned with the Spear of Selene, that Donald was gone, lost in the..tundra? Where were they going? 

Then again, his family had apparently gone on just fine when he was stranded on a deserted island for what felt like forever, so perhaps, he would make a disposable ally.

Donald found a thick enough coat to wear, so deemed himself ready enough to go. He trusted Scrooge already packed enough provisions for the two of them, and true enough, when he emerged outside to the waiting plane, there were two backpacks appearing stuffed and laying on the ground. Not that he wouldn’t question that they had everything that they needed, as if he WAS going to die today or tomorrow, he wanted to be comfortable in the process of it.

Scrooge and Launchpad were already discussing the details that only Launchpad would need to know in landing, or crashing, the plane at their destination. Della was nowhere to be seen, probably because she didn’t fully trust Launchpad with the plane and couldn’t bear to see him take off with it or she was busy with the boys. He felt it was a mix of the two, with the last time Della returned from a flight with Launchpad, she was not adamant about doing it again, and the second because it was Della.

Scrooge, noticing Donald’s approach, waved him over. And “Pick those up for me boy, we’re about ready to fly!” Donald stopped his walk at that, and if he was already dragging his feet at going, the heavy packs only made his ascent up the ramp into the cockpit only made it slower.

“Uhuh, uhuh, Gotcha.” Launchpad nodded to Scrooge pointing out the map, and Scrooge satisfied with the limited knowledge that Launchpad had probably attained at the route, he went over to Donald who’d just brought the backpacks.

“Thank you,” Scrooge obliged himself, taking one pack from Donald’s shoulders and swinging it over his own. Scrooge would have occupied himself with another task in that moment, but noticed Donald’s expectant look. “Well, are you prepared to find the Seeing Glass of Illusimator?”

Donald ignored Scrooge, “What do we have to face this time? Armies that we’re blowing the treasure from? The ancient guards within? Booby traps set up by their ancestors’ ancestors?” Scrooge rolled with his chaste, shaking his head.

“No, actually the armies outside the doorstep will have no idea we’re coming, if Launchpad lands just where I predicted. And nay, there will not be ‘ancient guards’ or ‘booby’ traps the think of, seeing as this treasure is Lost by mere accident.” He spoke as if this was all obvious, but seeing as Donald doesn’t pay attention the first time to Scrooge’s wild proposals to adventuring, he doesn’t care too well.

Scrooge turned around, so apparently he wouldn’t have cared too much if Donald had been confused in the first place.

“So, if it was lost by accident, how are we going to find it?” Donald entertained. Scrooge looked over his shoulder, in the way that he had cracked a very clever case open, grabbing some of Donald’s attention.

“Well, if you may know, I did a little research on this location and its treasure, and found something a little odd with how the treasure got lost in the first place. You see, this town we’re coming to, as smartly careful with their treasure they were, perhaps weren’t so careful with who found out about it.” Scrooge paced a bit, laying out his findings. “-Obviously. That’s why there’s a whole war on who gets the Seeing Glass. But there’s a legend behind it:”

“‘Any creature who seeks their fortune will be lead to it,’ or essentially, be bewitched by it! I think, that some unassuming person, or creature, got a hold of the treasure and ran off with it.” Donald, as hooked on Scrooge’s words at this point, shut up, wasn’t following.

“That still doesn’t explain where we’re going to find it!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Scrooge tutted, tapping a finger to his bill, “but it does. The legend said, any creature.” He smirked, pulling his trump card. “I looked into what kind of animals, especially pests, that frequent their villages. And I came up with this,” Scrooge pulled out a photo and handed it to Donald, who let Scrooge show him. In the photo was single creature…

“Wolves?” Donald panicked, as he did, repeating, “Wolves? How are we going to steal back treasure from wolves??”

“It’s only a simple creature, Donald. If there’s any creature you should be scared of getting bitten by, it’s only yourself.” Scrooge shook his head and Donald blushed for having followed Scrooge’s words earlier in the first place.

“Besides,” Scrooge continued, not noticing, or ignoring, Donald’s chagrin, “I’ve got all the necessary bait and traps for these wolves, and save for if we get somehow surrounded by them, we’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what if we get surrounded by them??”

“Well, between the two of us, I think we could take them.”

“...” Donald couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “‘I think we could take them’?? How sh--”

The place hit some turbulence, cutting Donald off, and making the two of them sway. While Scrooge had his cane to stop his fall, Donald went falling straight towards the floor. His head would have crashed straight into it as well, had Scrooge not used his quick reflexes to allow Donald to fall into his chest.

“Sorry Mr. McD! There was a huuuge pigeon,” Launchpad explained, while Donald regained his senses. Scrooge looked amused when Donald noticed where he was, stumbling hastily away. “The pigeon, just to let you know, probably is gone now.”

“Stupid, cocky...” Donald muttered more and more worse things about Scrooge as he went over to seat himself. While Donald pouted, Scrooge finally took it to himself to check between Launchpad and the cargo to make sure everything was in order.


	2. The Begrudging Dance - Part 2

“We’ll be arriving in just ten minutes!” Launchpad announced.

“Alright, good.” Scrooge acknowledged, trotting over towards the hatch. Donald looked up from his seat, seeing Scrooge with his backpack on his front.

“Wha…?” Donald hadn’t been paying much attention for the last couple hours. He had been looking over his phone, wishing he was home, and looking out the window mostly, but now he saw Scrooge putting on a...parachute?!

“Ohhh no. No, no, why are we doing parachutes?” Donald always had the worst of luck when it came to parachutes. And now they were going to throw themselves out towards icy cliffs to be impaled by them.

“I told you earlier, there are enemies just outside the door of where we’re going. We need to be stealthy as to not attract their attention to where we’re going.” Scrooge calmly explained, already harnessed to his parachute-pack. “And besides that, Launchpad couldn’t make a stealthy landing if he tried. -No offense.”

“None taken.”

Scrooge fixed his cane to the strap of his provisions bag and waited for a couple seconds. When Donald didn’t move beyond standing up in protest, Scrooge brought his bags to him himself.

“You’ll be fine,” “Like hell I will!” “It’ll only be a few seconds of freefall,” “-until my doom.” As they went back and forth, with Donald fighting him the entire time, Scrooge managed to get the upper hand, pulling both arms first through his backpack and then, spinning him around, pinning his arms long enough to get his parachute on. This all happened so fast, Donald barely got to react before he spun him back around for good measure, in order to look over him. 

“There. You’ll be fine,” Scrooge pushed, both verbally and physically towards the hatch. “I’ll even go first.” Scrooge promised, and Donald nodded frantically at that last statement. Donald didn’t understand how Scrooge managed to stay so strong and good at manhandling after all these years. Opening the hatch then, Scrooge bid his pilot his last instructions on where to land, “Just a couple miles north of the clearing, you can’t miss it.” “You mean /that/ way?” and with a sigh let the winds take him out of the Sunchaser.

Donald had only five more seconds to heave a relieved breath, before all chaos broke loose. He threw the door shut behind Scrooge, if only it stayed shut, as his scarf got trapped in it, preventing it from shutting and allowing it to bounce open again. As Donald tried turning around to return to his seat, unbeknownst to him the Sunchaser suddenly turned, throwing Donald out the original direction it was going, after Scrooge.

As stealthy as Scrooge claimed this ordeal would be, Donald was screaming the whole way down. The ground was rapidly approaching, as his parachute, as usual, was failing. Also, of course, he passed Scrooge on his way down, promising him a fast and deadly ending, had Scrooge not seen him and snatched him up before pulling his own parachute. The screaming, however, did not stop, now not in fear but in anger.

Just before they touched the ground, a few meters up, Scrooge tossed the struggling duck into a nearby pine tree, so that Scrooge could safely eject his parachute. That meant a graceful landing to him, and a needley one for Donald, but it did stop the screaming if for a minute.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Scrooge inquired, as he brushed off his coat and fixed his hat, his backpack already now correctly on his back. He hardly waited for Donald to situate himself as Donald, all in disarray on the snowy ground beneath the tree, moaned at his poor back muscles, all bruised, working themselves to get himself in a sitting position.

Donald bounced back in recovery to a fit of anger, hopping after Scrooge intent on ringing his ears out. As he made it next to him, Scrooge stopped behind a cliffside and pressed a hand to Donald’s beak to caution him to be quiet. This made Donald’s eye twitch, but he understood that Scrooge saw someone ahead, and peered over with him to see.

Just as Scrooge had promised earlier, they were seeking out wolves, and wolves they found. There were a few, prowling up ahead, in between the two icy peeks. Donald hadn’t had much experience with wolves, angry dogs yes, big angry cats yes. However, Scrooge seemed incredibly calm, as usual, probably having run in with wolves before, perhaps in his time in the klondyke. Or maybe some other time, seeing how old and experienced Scrooge was. /And no, it doesn’t make me feel more calm that he seems to know what he’s doing. He’s an idiot for it./ Donald vehemently told himself.

“Look, they seem to have some inkling to come over here, but I don’t think we’ve been noticed yet,” said Scrooge, looking back at Donald’s appearance. “Gah, did you have to wear that garrish blue?” Before Donald could say something loudly and screechy toned, he interrupted him, “No matter. Follow my lead.” He takes hold of Donald’s hand, much to his disagreement, and sits them down behind the very tree that Donald had taken a tumble in.

Donald understood why in this situation his coat would be a problem, but this was his warmest jacket, with all of its puffiness. Scrooge’s coat, in the meantime, took on an earthy brown, with some sort of animal fur around the collars, but could fur lining really be that insulating? It was a poor thought, as Donald never had the luxury of owning one himself.

Only one wolf’s head popped out from the gorge and into the clearing. She sniffed a second, and prowled about the area. Meanwhile, Donald lay flat on his back in a little snow hole that was dug last second, with only his thoughts about coats to distract himself from the close proximity he was with Scrooge. His Uncle crouched above him on one knee, getting lower as the wolf stalked nearer. While Donald was completely shrouded in the snow, Scrooge only had the luck of being recognized as a dead animal, and even then not get eaten for it.

Going for a stealthy approach wasn’t Donald’s specialty, even when it came to animals. He was more used to scaring his opponent with his ferocity and launching at them with all feathers and fists. Donald understood why they weren’t doing the latter approach, but it had been so long since Scrooge had sheltered him in this way, that it was kind of uncomfortable.

Scrooge placed a finger over his own beak from under the coat-blanket hiding them, probably indicating she was near. Donald closed his eyes in trepidation, but relaxing a bit when his Uncle shifted closer despite himself.

It felt like ages before Scrooge sighed in relief, his breath moving from a cozy warmth over Donald’s cheeks and into the open air as he stretched out his back with a pop, earning an “Old man,” remark.

“Well, that was a close call.” Scrooge recalled, “But, we’ve still got a ways to go before we find that treasure.” As per usual, Scrooge was very good at dismissing anything to closely related to feelings. Donald got up with a little difficulty, brushing the snow from his tail. Not that Scrooge had probably thought anything of it, Donald was just isolated in terms of familial positions with Scrooge, anyways. Irrelevant, but such was Donald’s life.

Scrooge lead the way up the gorge, following the remaining tracks of the wolves, Donald following Scrooge with his beak up, on guard. The gorge was deep, the icy banks above hardly recognizable through the upside down pillars of icicles far above. This was a dangerous path, booby traps or no, and Donald wasn’t going to have anything else get the jump of him on this adventure.

The air was brisk as they trudged through the snow. All this dry coldness made Donald miss his boat, with the warm air and the sun beating down on his feathers. Even in the winter, on the boat he had no worries. With his galoshes if the rain or snow ever beat down on the deck so much that it flooded, a book and fuzzy socks made it all better when he laid back down on his hammock for the night. Life was never glorious, in fact, troubles would plague Donald everywhere he went, adventures or no. But there was a constant rhythm to it, meanwhile adventures always dug up feelings of anger, or sorrow, or excitement...He couldn’t say he missed it either, with the three boys bringing just the right amount of excitement where he was.

Had he missed Scrooge? No, no of course not. He remembered anger and loneliness whenever he thought about Scrooge, and at the time Della. But had he ever forgiven Scrooge for that, even to this day? Not even. Or, if he tried to give Scrooge the credit for what he had done for the boys up to now, maybe a little.

Donald looked over at him, through his mixed feelings about adventuring and the frost. Scrooge hadn’t changed. Scrooge still had those sleepless bags under his eyes, kept awake by his ambitions, no doubt. He still kept his rich gaze and his appearance up to public eye’s standards. He still acted as if he would never die. He’d aged, but hadn’t lost a touch in his proud demeanor. Sure, Donald knew Scrooge had humbled himself a lot more towards his family, but one thought that had never left Donald was /‘what if it happened again?’/ Just like old times, as Della put it.

Donald pulled his puffy blue hood over his head, muffling the cold wind from his ear feathers and drawing in on himself. They drew near to an opening in the path ahead, and Scrooge held a hand up to Donald to be cautious.

The gorge opened up to a beautiful ring of pillars and ice. The floor’s sheen indicated its slippery surface, snow barely dusting it at all. The pillars were long, coming up to touch the porous ceiling, indicating that they had once been icicles. Light streaming through the holes above reflected around the space, making it seem like a ballroom dance floor than a randomly found cavern.

Glancing back to his companion, with a slight quirk of an eyebrow at Donald’s appearance, pointed ahead for their destination. He signed to him, ‘Don’t speak. I’m not sure how far ahead the wolves are from here, as their cave is just past here.’ Scrooge had helped teach them a tactile way to speak long ago, but Donald understood up to what Scrooge had said, and nodded.

‘How are we going to get across?’ Donald asked, unsure at the viscosity of the upcoming area. Scrooge held up a finger and reached his foot out to toe the ice...meaning, they were going to wing it. Great. 

There was a metal like ‘tinking,’ that echoed in the space when Scrooge only placed his toe on the ice. ‘This won’t do...’ Scrooge signed, ‘We’re going to have to __ across.’ Donald scrunched his eyes at Scrooge. 

‘What?’

‘__.’ Scrooge repeated the word, but apparently, it wasn’t in Donald’s immediate knowledge base. Scrooge rolled his eyes, making Donald angry with embarrassment. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t spoke in this dumb signing language for at least ten or so years!!

Scrooge pointed down towards his feet, carefully placing each softly down onto the shimmering floors. He slid back a couple paces, allowing Donald some room, then held out his hands for Donald. Donald almost refused like a petulant child, but seeing Scrooge’s patient but amused smile, suddenly took a hold of his hands, a little too tightly to send the message that he was /not happy/, and followed Scrooge’s gait with his own feet.

Scrooge started skating forward, Donald hardly realizing it until his own feet started to drag over the floor without his permission. He panicked, starting to flail his arms to catch himself, but Scrooge held them fast tightly to keep them both on the same path.

Donald had them spinning a bit, with the momentum of his jerking. This finally brought his attention to Scrooge, of which he was linked to, who was busy looking around to make sure they didn’t hit any pillars. He saw his Uncle use his cane, to spin around and avoid smacking straight into it, and a shove into another to push themselves in the opposite direction. Donald, meanwhile, had stilled to a stiff point, hoping if he didn’t move anymore, that the world would eventually stop spinning the two of them. He hadn’t caught his Uncle’s look, as he suddenly launched Donald into a snowbank on the other side, before his head was already buried.

He could hear him laughing from underneath the cold fluffy snow. Donald could only be thankful that his hood was still popped up, so when he emerged, he only had a face full of snow, rather than a whole popsicle of it.

“Hoohoohooo!” Scrooge wiped a single tear from his eye, apparently Donald’s icy face being hilarious to the old man. They were both on the other side, thanks to Scrooge, however, so /whatever, laugh it up, for now./

Seeing as Scrooge found it safe enough to laugh outloud, Donald spoke. “Yeah, yeah..” He bit his tongue, when he realized that the word he had been searching for earlier, ‘__’ was ‘Skate.’ Donald was terrible at skating, so he was at least grateful that Scrooge knew how to do that somewhat. Not that Scrooge knew how to be polite at all, or nice, or kind…

“I see the footprints,” Scrooge pointed out. Aand they were back on track. All throughout this adventure, it had only been maybe an hour, and Donald had already gotten bruised and humiliated at every point of it. 

“Ehm,” Scrooge mouthed, coughing a bit to sober himself up. “You looked like this last when you were in your teenage years, with the whole...” he trailed off.

“The whole what?” Donald snapped, annoyed at Scrooge’s tact.

“With, with how your acting.”

“How am I acting?” Donald retorted, proving Scrooge’s point.

“Exactly my point.” Scrooge echoed. “...off.”

Donald didn’t know what to make of that statement. “Well, this is normal,” he replied, since /maybe you haven’t been paying attention./

He almost thought Scrooge was going to drop it, with a pause in the conversation, allowing just the sounds of their feet following the paw prints in the snow to travel down the cavern. It was a darker, but equally pretty cavern from the one over the ice, however more isolated. Then, Scrooge spoke. “It’s just, I’m more used to watching over the boys now, making sure they don’t get injured. I’ve...” he choked out, after a moment, “I’ve been working on that.” This emotion, surprised Donald a bit. What was Scrooge trying to say?

“But I understand if you don’t want me to--” Scrooge continued, but his eyes widened.

“What-” Donald tried to say, before he saw Scrooge whip himself around to look past the upcoming bend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have about less than 7 more days until I go back to school. can I finish this fic on time before I go back? Stay tuned.
> 
> Also, Enjoy!!


	3. The Bloodied

The path got more dim ahead, but there was no mistaking those white pelts. The pack of wolves were just ahead. And this time, they noticed them.

Blue eyes gleamed straight at the pair of duck, a low growls followed. “Uhh, Scrooge,” Donald shakely called to him, as they stood face to faces with the wolves, as if Scrooge had been frozen by them in fear. Looking over to him, of course that was not the case, Scrooge holding a calculating look, looking more at the ground than the potential deadly situation in front of him. 

This was the same man who, after all, knew every in and out of most situations. Donald didn’t know how he did it, but Scrooge no matter what, seemed a little more cool in tighter situations. This was a big contrast between Della and him versus Scrooge, although Della may have been a little smarter than Donald as well.

Scrooge’s eyes snapped to his.

“On the count of three.” This meant to follow his lead. “One...Two...” Donald gulped.

“THREE!” Scrooge tossed a corner of a net to him, the sudden movement causing the wolves to leap at them. Donald kept his eyes solely on Scrooge, and okay, also at the snarling teeth that bit at this feathers as they crashed into the net in a frenzy.

Scrooge and Donald ran towards where the wolves had come from, arching the remaining ends of the net over them to the other side. Of course, Donald had goofed up a bit, so one wolf remained outside the parameter. 

Donald tried backing away from it, accidently tripping into the net of wild angry wolves, Scrooge yelling after him. Donald skid backwards, after his flailing did more damage to the wolves than they him. Scrooge had the remaining wolf in his grasp, or what looked more like the other way around. He forced his feathery fist up the wolf’s maw, blood and down spurting everywhere in the process. The wolf gagged, and stumbled back, skittering away in fear. This was the last thing Donald saw, before the floor suddenly rose up above him.

Or, he was sliding down.

“Donald!!” Scrooge yelled after him, as Donald slipped and slid in the cavern’s thin tunnel. Donald could see icicles and the like crashing into him, his head, his torso, some breaking apart and some breaking through him. He could hear Scrooge yelling for him once more, which Donald felt Scrooge probably shouldn’t have taken the same path as him, since it was so treacherous.

As he neared what looked like the end of the tunnel, with only open air in front of him, he thought Scrooge better come save his ass before he dies here.

Then he was free falling.

\---

When he finally awoke, he could feel a dull ache in his torso, like someone was beating his stomach with a tiny baby fist (hey, those things were strong). The other thing was that he was incredibly lethargic, which was normal for waking up in any normal place. But for a strange place like this…

Donald sat up, but with a yelp immediately regretted it, curling up in on himself on his side.

“Oy, lad. I wouldn’t sit up like that if I were you,” Scrooge spoke. Donald cracked his eyes open again and saw Scrooge sitting by something that looked like a little fire, Scrooge crouched over a drawing of some sort. Scrooge also was missing his hat, with further inspection, Donald found was on his own head.

“Where are we…?” Donald asked blearily, and Scrooged sighed, going back to pouring himself over his drawing.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” And, Donald was sure that Scrooge had an explanation, and sure enough he did, he went on “These caverns are notorious for their glacier caves, and their little explorable paths within. The only problem is with how extensive they are, that any one path alone could take hours to venture through. I’ve already mapped the possible existing mapped places that we could be currently in, however, if we want to find the treasure Illusimator, we’re going to want to go somewhere unknown. So, in a sense, you’ve helped us a bit in jumpstarting that venture. Also however, we didn’t find the wolves den quite so, and therefore have strayed a bit.”

All that talking got Donald sleepy a bit. He murmured, “So, we’ve got to go back up where we came.”

“Not quite. It’s far too steep to try and climb back up, not to mention in our current states.” Donald opened his eyes again to look for Scrooge’s arm, which he saw had gotten bitten earlier. He couldn’t tell with the sleeves of his thick coat blocking his view from the earlier fiasco.

Not that he could move to try and inspect it. Donald looked down at himself, to find his coat tattered quite a bit. But, pulling his coat up a bit, saw bloody, thickly wrapped bandages around his torso. In disgust he reflexively tightened his abdominal muscles, but deeply regretted it, as he hissed and curled in on himself once more.

“Hey, what did I say about moving?” Donald would have retorted had he not be restraining himself in pain. Scrooge continued, like the asshole he was, “You know, if you were cold, you only had to say so.”

Scrooge’s nice, thick coat was laid over him while Donald struggled to breathe. Donald felt himself ease up a bit, muscles relaxing under the weighted embrace of the new blanket. “Wait,” he found a bit of his senses.

“This is yours,” he grabbed, miraculously without pain this time, Scrooge’s ankle. If Scrooge moved to go back to his spot however, it would probably hurt a lot, Donald realized.

Scrooge didn’t move, “I’ve got the fireplace. No worries.”

“...No.” Was all Donald could think of, at the moment.

The next moment, there was only the crackle of the fireplace, as Scrooge contemplated above him. Donald didn’t remember why he was so resistant on letting Scrooge give him his coat, as he felt a lot safer underneath it, but still, Scrooge kept to Donald’s past resistance by merely sitting down on the spot.

Scrooge used his cane to drag over his drawings after sitting down, also allowing Donald some view of what he was doing. It was very complex, making Donald wonder just how much research this man went through before their venture, but it also had little red marks and where they might need to go from here. So, in a sense, everything would be fine.

Donald stared over at the fireplace for a bit, allowing reality to seep back into his tired bones. Scrooge looked just as tired, however, he hadn’t gotten a break like Donald had yet. That was just fine for him, even as he felt a little guilty for lying uselessly in his warm cocoon or fur. Scrooge was the one who got him mixed up in this in the first place. That reminded him…

“What were you trying to say earlier..?” Donald asked.

Scrooged paused in his work. “...Finding the Seeing Glass of Illusimator? I could walk you through it,” Scrooge offered. But, Donald felt like that wasn’t it.

“No..” Donald remembered something like, Scrooge calling him a teenager, then that he was working on something. Or something. When Donald didn’t elaborate, Scrooge asked again.

“Then what?” He couldn’t see Scrooge’s expression, but somehow he thought he was feigning ignorance. Whatever, they didn’t have to talk. They never talked anyways.

“Nevermind.” Donald admitted, “Run me down on what we need to do.”

“Alright,” Scrooge fell back into his comfort zone. “So I was thinking, since there are going to be a lot less foot prints in the snow, since there will be less snow down here in general, that we could utilize our bait much more. We set up pieces of meat that we’ve brought, and set small alarms to when is picked up. From there, we could either set up a rudimentary tracking device, maybe something small and colorful to fall on the floor, or even a string.”

“Best bet is to be able to follow the trail before its lost however. We’ll set them up at these entry points. These are the most likely places that connect to what could be the wolves’ dens, and that will be the closest points to where we will find the Illusimator.”

“So, our biggest challenge will be --- the sno----. ------ --- ---. “ Scrooge chuckled at his own joke. ”----. ------ ---- -------- ------------ ----- -------------- ----- --- --....Hey,” Scrooge turned around, pushing Donald’s lulling head a bit. “Did you get any of that?”

“We’re going to bait the wolves so that they’ll lead us back to their den.” Donald repeated, with surprising clarity despite his heavy head.

“And, our biggest challenge is going to be…?” Scrooge asked, making Donald think for a moment. It was a bit hard, when, now that the pain had slightly subsided away and he was so cozy, to stay awake.

“The slippery slopes along the way.” Donald concluded. Scrooge nodded, smiling a bit.

“Good.” Scrooge patted his head, causing his eyelids to fall once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> archive wasn't letting me post this last night, so here's chapter 3!! Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy!!


	4. The Bloodied - Part 2

By the time Donald awoke again, he felt much more conscious and refreshed than before. The pain was far worse, by all means that baby fist had grown and sharpened into the point of a bayonet, but it was livable. After all, Donald had grown up used to beatings in his time as the Duck Avenger, his adventures with Scrooge and Della, then past that point into the marines. Not to say he didn’t have to grit his teeth together as he finally went against Scrooge’s warning and sat up.

Speaking of Scrooge, he was laid peacefully down on top of the map, the map serving as a pillow/blanket of sorts. The fireplace had long died down, making Donald wonder how long they’d been down here. Had Della and Launchpad already made it to the pick up point, and was waiting for their arrival?

Looking down on his Uncle, he wondered belatedly why he gave up his coat, seeing as his tail quivered in the cavernous cold. He pulled the coat from on top of him, slightly mourning giving it up again as the air assaulted the holes in his tattered coat, and laid it on top of Scrooge. This caused him to stir.

“So, you’re finally awake, eh?” Scrooge asked, as if he himself hadn’t just been dozing off. He sat up and stretched, making the newly replaced coat slip from him. Donald wondered why he bothered at all.

“Yeah, I’m fine now,” Donald said, despite the ache in his belly. “I was just waiting for you-”

“Yeah, yeah,“ his Uncle waved, calling his bullshit. He was such an asshole. “We can change your bandages, then get up and going.”

“I...” could Donald really protest to that? Damn sure he was, “I already did.” The sooner they got out of there, the sooner they could see Della and the kids. Just as soon as they found that Illuminator-whatever. Scrooge raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying.

“Really, Donald, going back to lying again?” Scrooge tutted as he pushed away Donald’s protective arms, but Donald held them close to him.

“Really, I don’t want-” /you helping me./ It would be a childish request, but honestly, he didn’t want to owe Uncle Scrooge anything today, and that was that. He came up dry with any excuses that would both effectively avoid Scrooge’s badgering and get them to the illuminator.

To his surprise, Scrooge didn’t force him anymore. He shrugged. “Whatever.” And stuffed the medical tape back in his bag. He stiffly put his coat back on and got ready, and Donald looked away. Now Scrooge was pissed. But Donald was an adult, and didn’t need Scrooge’s belated parental concern now, so what did that matter to him.

“(Don’t blame me if you get an infection…)” Scrooge muttered to himself.

Donald got up angrily himself, brushing off what was left of his coat, and locating his bag. Scrooge was now looking over his map one last time, standing before the paths to choose before them, to which Donald approached. Scrooge had pulled a contemplative face, hiding his annoyance, but Donald didn’t care. Donald was already in so much debt to Scrooge, with the kids and his Sister having shelter, but gratefulness and humility was something that Donald was not going to show this old miser with all the shit he’d been put through. And besides, they were going to get home so fast, his wound wouldn’t have time to fester.

“Let’s begin by placing bait that way,” Scrooge suggested. “And to make sure that we don’t go slipping down any more holes, let’s stay tied together. It would be devastating if either of us got separated in this large maze.” As mentioned, he tied one end of the rope around his torso, and pausing at Donald, tied the other end around Donald’s shoulders like a second backpack. Again, it felt like Donald was being coddled, so he glared at him when he came back in front of him. “There.” Scrooge glared back, if a bit confused, and marched on ahead, Donald forced to skitter close behind or else slip on the ice.

The first trap they tried to set up, Donald had a bit of trouble getting a hang of. He was tasked with holding the meat in place, while Scrooge set up an icicle trap, to either trigger a series of icicles further down the path, to alert the two of them, and/or potentially injuring and slowing down the wolf. The plan was full proof, except Donald had to hold the meat down in place while Scrooge climbed on top of the walls and up nearer to the icicles, and Donald’s hands slipped a bit, causing some icicles to fall prematurely.

It was a bit of a ruckus, but once they’d gotten the first meat down, they went to the next paths to set up the rest of them. Donald and Scrooge didn’t talk much, save for the first trap, which suited Donald just fine as he found the best technique was to sit on the meat, to make sure the meat and his abdominal muscles didn’t move. Nearer to the end of their craft, Donald noticed that Scrooge was favoring one hand over the other.

“CRASH,” an echo rang through the cavern, alerting them, in the middle of fixing their third trap, that the first had been triggered. They looked at eachother, and then ran towards the source of the sound.

“There goes the beast!” Scrooge cried, as the wolf, startled by all the noise for one measly piece of meat, bolted in the direction it came. Donald and Scrooge were hot in persuit.

Donald yelled after it, “Oh no you don’t!” His voice dying down a bit, as apparently belting came from the midsection of your body, while Scrooge ended up dragging Donald a bit with how fast he was going.

Donald’s feet went out from under him. “Oh no...” he murmured scarcely, as he fell on his butt and started even sliding faster than Scrooge was running. Scrooge’s eyes widened as he realized the magical pace that Donald was in pursuit while in a sitting position, and was too, jerked off of his own feet as a result. The wolf yelped, as it jumped around a corner, barely avoiding the sharp, wall-less bend ahead.

“Of course-” Scrooge and Donald chimed together, before they careened over the edge.

The rope was what saved them this time, although not for long. Donald was only saved by the rope, while Scrooge held on by one set of fingers. The rope was caught on a pointy end of the cliff, letting Donald dangle, while it and Scrooge tried to keep them both up.

“Scrooge!” Donald yelled, struggling a bit to help reach the ledge. He was far too down to reach it however, and, reaching behind him, Uncle Scrooge had knotted the dang harness behind his back, preventing him from untying it. Scrooge managed to get even his bloodied knuckles, of which Donald noticed were unbandaged, the hypocrite, up onto the ledge as well, perhaps making some leeway.

“Hold...On...” Scrooge barely spat out, all of his physical strength dedicated to keeping on. He was freaking crunching his fingers to get try and get back up, the ice starting to slip under the heat. Donald had a thought, that the only reason Scrooge hadn’t been able to make it to the ledge was because he had him in tow.

If only Donald could think of something to save them both. But he was only good at failing, with how bad luck he had. Sure, he’d managed to dumbly survive a lot of accidents, but not without some near death ones, so what was it to say that his bad luck would turn out to be dumb luck today?

Nevertheless, Donald was not very good as sitting still while others tried to save him. Not anymore, at least. Looking towards the edges of the cliff, they seemed quite janky. If he could just get over there, he could start climbing too...he started swinging.

“B-What are you doing?!” Scrooge yelled. Donald was about to yell something spiteful back, but his swinging only loosened itself from the top of the cliff’s ledge, and gravity suddenly took a hold of Donald. The rope fell taught around Scrooge’s waist, his fingers scraping down the cliff with the newly supported weight.

Well, apparently Donald had just made it worse, which is exactly what he thought as both he and Scrooge fell.

Down and down...He saw pillars pass their fall, as the world fell into slow motion. Some part of Scrooge smacked into one, causing his eyes to roll back and shut. Donald didn’t hit anything, as he fell and fell, the two of them suspended just a bit by wind resistance. Donald watched his Uncle, a piercing feeling of regret filling him, as he felt he could have done better, with everything considered in this trip. At least, attitude-wise.

Finally daring to look down, Donald saw a two pillars rapidly approaching them, and as it shattered from impact by them, surely cutting into them and the rope, Donald closed his eyes.

A screeching filled the air, and Donald opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter, wooooooooooooo, please leave a comment telling me what you think! I hope you guys are enjoying!!


	5. Feeling Hot

Donald only felt cold, ice having already infiltrated his every pore and leaving him stiff in its wake. He must have only passed out for a second though, as everything was still in motion, from icicles falling from above to...Scrooge?

Where was Scrooge?!

“Uncle--!!” Donald stopped his shout to cough in pain. He felt nauseous. And had he been dangling on his rope this whole time…? THE ROPE.

Looking above him, he could see the tattered ends of what used to connect to Scrooge, caught precariously between many icicles and a pillar, causing Donald’s suspension. His vision swimming, the swaying of his body not helping any, he craned his head to the left and to the right to try and find his Uncle. There were still some smaller fragments falling at this point, but through the false snow, -over there!!- he spotted him.

Donald started running through the air, although it was getting him nowhere, and the icicles holding him protested with another loud scrape. The fucking icicles were holding him back, and it was getting him angry, from the world moving back and forth to his Uncle being so far away, vulnerable and in potential danger.

“Rrrrrr...” Donald could feel his anger bubbling up, hardly able to keep a lid on it. He swayed back, and forth…”WAHWAHWHHAWHH-!” He started flailing, wildly. He couldn’t help it, his body physically reacting to his frustration, his face now heated, melting any cold from his body he’d felt previously.

He shot a menacing look at his captor, the rope. With the strength of Storkules and the flexibility of a child, he unleashed his demon onto the rope, snagging it within his teeth and ripping /it,/ back and forth. It let go frightfully, Donald plopping down on his tail for a second, before he locked onto his next target.

From above, a few larger pieces were coming down again, Donald saw in his race to Scrooge. With a battle cry, he was only able to scoop him up just barely, before there was a soft crunch, followed by another terrible screech. This was heard all behind him, as Donald sped through the clearing and through a sub tunnel, uncared for now that he had stolen his prize.

As he sped, his feet left the floor, again, but no fucking way was it going to tear them though hell again, he curled himself around his Uncle as he fell into a roll, farther and farther in before he-- 

“SLAP!!” Donald’s back hit a wall, the wall hitting him back but successfully absorbing enough momentum so that he rolled back onto the ground safely. Donald let his Uncle go, finally, laying on the floor, his stomach pains and all forgotten in his adrenaline rush. Panting, he stared up at the ceiling.

With the space to contemplate the recent events, he couldn’t imagine...what. Had. Happened back there? They were connected by the rope, the plan was nearly foolproof he’d said...One of them must’ve been the fool then.

Donald sat up, his face still steaming, as he looked fiercely at his unconcious Uncle.

“What was that?!?!” Donald demanded, wobbling to his feet. “The rope was supposed to help us! Now we’ve got no wolves, no treasure,” he marched over, screaming, “ AND, we’re LOST again, in these stupid, stupidly large, stupidly cold, dark--WAWAWAH!!!” He shook, throwing his tantrum over Scrooge’s stiff body.

His vision red, a little voice in him wondered /is Scrooge okay?/ This caused him to slow his hyperventilating a bit, no longer towering over Scrooge but falling to his knees beside him.

“Scrooge?” he asked fearfully, “Uncle Scrooge?” He grabbed a shoulder, then his face, trying to gently shake him awake. Why had he just been yelling over his potentially dead body?? He hadn’t even checked yet, but Scrooge was lying awfully still on his back. And as his feelings heightened, he could feel something wet around his knees. 

Uncle Scrooge couldn’t die. He was invincible. When age tried to take him, he took a dip in the fountain of youth; When bad guys tried to ruin him, he’d beat them while /still/ being twice the better man; Nature couldn’t beat him, though all the means that it’s tried...

Blood.

What was he doing?? Had nothing in the past taught him, other than that Scrooge was invincible, that he could potentially /not/ be invincible? Donald couldn’t recall anything, as he turned Scrooge over onto his side, ceasing to breathe when he saw his back.

There were some icicles imbued into his back, how long and how deep, Donald couldn’t immediately tell. Some were thicker, some were thinner, but it looked like a nightmare all the same. Where had Scrooge’s backpack gone? Maybe he’d tossed it earlier, Donald realized, when trying to pull the two of them back up. That would only make sense, and Donald internally beat himself for only now realizing, had he earlier he might’ve talked Scrooge some sense into keeping his back covered.

Feeling for a heartbeat, he was still alive. Donald pulled back when he felt it, remembering to breathe again.

He started doing a more thorough look over his Uncle, to spot any other hidden injuries. His arm was an obvious one, although most of it had clotted quite a bit by now, it still needed treatment. The other one, which he’d suspected when he’d passed out, was Scrooge’s head, which taking off the hat revealed a nasty cut near the back of his head, which he attended to first. He saved the icicles for last, for fear of taking them out, mostly.

The ice had to come out though, if he wanted Scrooge to warm up without further damage to his internals, so, laying him on his stomach, he prepared himself.

And…

Okay, now he really was going to pull them out. Mustering his inner marine, he took one icicle by the base, and then promptly let go. Wait, he should get some gauze and some more antiseptic out.

Miraculously, none of the icicles seemed too abnormally long, which was a relief. However, by the time he’d treated all of Scrooge’s wounds, they were now dangerously low on medical supplies. Well, that was all fine, Donald would just rest his wounds off eventually.

For now, he had to follow Scrooge’s earlier example, and set up a camp for them, until Scrooge awoke. It wouldn’t do him much use to dragging Scrooge’s unconscious body, looking for the treasure, since there was still the threat of wolves on the prowl. Meanwhile, it definitely was not an option to leave Scrooge here alone either, as he’d prolly freeze to death by the time Donald would come back, if at all.

So, fishing out a few firestarter provisions from the bag, and scouting out some wet frosty plants and stones to border the fire, Donald got a camp going. Luckily, or not, Scrooge had the map tucked in his coat, rather than in his backpack, giving Donald the option of looking over it. Donald had no idea how to read it, but maybe with some willpower and a good old fashioned navigator’s intuition, he could figure it out.

As he was mulling it over, a slight breeze picked up and blew out his small fire that he’d gotten going. Donald grumbled angrily, as he was just about at his wits end with trying to figure out this map and get Scrooge to recovery. It wasn’t fair!! Scrooge made it look so easy earlier. It should have been him worrying over his health and making sure /he/ didn’t freeze, rather than the other way around. Donald was angry over this thought as well, even though he’d been protesting the exact opposite all day(night?), little to his recognition.

Speaking of freezing, that same breeze that put out the fire made Donald realize how much more damp and cold it was in here, especially on his own skin for sweating so much earlier. Donald rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to get some heat friction into them. And, looking over at Scrooge, he thought he must be ten times worse for him, not even being conscious to realize how the temperature had changed. 

Untucking his feet from beneath him, he abandoned the map in favor of checking Scrooge once more. Now that Donald’s hands had gotten feeling into them, touching one to Scrooge’s head, he was cold and clammy. His hands were the same, burdening Donald with the fret that if he didn’t wake up soon, he might not wake up at all.

The fire was looking pitiful at this point, but Donald tried to light it again. And again. Something about this air was so moist and had just enough breeze, that it wasn’t allowing the fire to light. Donald stuffed his light back in its compartment, falling back in a similar posture to when Donald had been injured; Scrooge at his back, the map to his side, and one of the two of them too cold for their own good. But, Donald didn’t have an extra coat to give.

He missed his Uncle, with his all knowingness always at use. Even Della would do better in this situation, as, for one that she wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place, and two, she probably could have gotten the darn fire to light.

It felt like Donald was always making up for something he lacked, and could never achieve. He could hardly keep the kids on his side, with how much he failed at keeping jobs and letting the kids have nice things. When it came to games and sport, whoever landed on his team would most likely loose, if he be because of his temper or his misfortune. To make it worse, he couldn’t imagine why his Uncle kept pulling him around, seeing as they were always at eachother’s throats and could hardly keep their cool around eachother. Maybe the answer sincerely was just because he was family, not for the reason that he still lived near his nephews and had meals on the table, no that was the debt of losing his sister, but for sending him honest smiles and watching out for him in his general day to day basis.

They hated eachother, despised eachother’s presence. Yet, it wasn’t just politeness that Scrooge showed him, although for Donald it had been. No, when he thought about it, this kindness was essentially like how Scrooge mentioned the boys earlier, and how he treated Donald.

Scrooge’s breathing was shallow, probably strained due to the injuries pulling at his back. Maybe, Donald thought, what wasn’t fair, was, amidst all the people Donald couldn’t be to help him, was that /Donald/ was now the cold one. Meanwhile, Scrooge didn’t ask any questions while trying to help him, and for whatever reasons it didn’t feel out of obligation anymore. This hurt Donald, deeply.

He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t place a single rational thought as to why this affected him. Like he’d said, he refused to owe anything to the old man. For that mysterious reason though, his eyes were welling up. 

It was in a mixture of confusion, useless frustration, and pity that he wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. Donald pulled Scrooge’s coat from his body, and adjusted it so that less of Scrooge’s limbs were exposed to the air. When that wasn’t quite working, he tugged at the scarf that had gotten himself into this mess.

There, Scrooge was all cocooned up. He couldn’t afford to wallow over the man, when he was supposed to wake up eventually. Plus, it would be pretty embarrassing to be caught crying, when Donald was needed to keep watch over their conditions.

Speaking of which, he darefully peeled up his coat and inspected his bandage. Alright, it wasn’t looking too hot, but he’d already guessed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been very much enjoying the new pokemons and nearly didn't have an update... But, as usual, i feel like im rolling with the scrooge and donald uncle-y feels. Hope you guys enjoy!


	6. Feeling Hot - Part 2

“You blathering idiot!!” Scrooge cried, waking Donald from his slumber underneath the map. Donald’s eyes felt sticky though, so he didn’t want to open them. For the longest time earlier, he had contemplated even falling asleep, seeing as they were in a strange place with wolves at the door. But, Uncle Scrooge had fallen asleep earlier too, which is the only reason that could justify him lying down on the icy cold floors for a snooze.

It wasn’t even that comfortable! For an hour or more, he just lay there, shivering, even with the map as a blanket. Scrooge was sleeping like a baby, good for him, but Donald hadn’t had anything but his own bloody abdominal wound to keep him warm. It was probably that burning sensation that helped him fall asleep, in fact, as depressing as its existence was. So, all in all, he didn’t look like a ray of sunshine when his arm was suddenly yanked from underneath him, forcing Donald around to face his seething Uncle.

No, but Scrooge, although looking well rested, was as angry as a ball of sun. He didn’t have any right to be angry, not after what Donald went through for him, so Donald attempted to shrug him off and go back to sleep.

“Ohh, no you don’t.” Scrooge warned. He stuck his bandaged hand in front of Donald’s reluctantly awake face, and Donald rolled his eyes and he went into a tirade. “Just, where are all of the bandages now? And what are these??”

Of course Donald had no time, nor the will to answer him, as Scrooge jumped right back in. “A complete waste, I tell you!” he exclaimed, “Now you’ve gone an’ used them up, while you,” he let go of Donald’s arm with a shove. Ow. “are rather indisposed of!” /What was he yelling about..?/

“Well?” Scrooge prompted, “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“You’re,” Donald stuck a finger in one ear. Why did every part of him feel clogged? “-Welcome.”

“...Thank you for that.” Scrooge thanked blandly, “Thank you, for...ruining our chances at getting the treasure!” This woke Donald up. But, for some reason, his muscles were rather sluggish, and wouldn’t sit him upright.

“What are you talking about…?” Donald asked, Scrooge scoffing again. Donald helped save his life, as far as he could remember. How had he done anything wrong, /this time/?

“Have you taken a look at yourself yet?” Scrooge asked, and Donald felt a wave of shame flood within him. To make it worse, Scrooge proceeded to show him, revealing Donald’s own bandages with a harsh tug of his coat.

“If you had just listened to me earlier, this could have been avoided.” Donald was getting angry or nauseous. Emotions from last night were beating at his skull, combined with the weighing fact that, he failed again. He failed again.

But Scrooge was fine. But now, because...why was Scrooge mad? Because they weren’t going to get the treasure? “Is that all you care about?” Donald asked. Scrooge blinked at him confused.

“Wha?” Scrooge gawked, “Of course I do! It was your mistake, not mine.” Donald’s eye twitched, and he could tell Scrooge was equally getting mad. Good.

“W-Well,” Donald struggled to come up with the words. /Of course all Scrooge cares about is the treasure/. Now, they were going to have to tend for dumb old Donald...because he tried helping Scrooge.

/Why couldn’t Della be here?/

“Son..?” Scrooge prodded, placing a hand on Donald’s shoulder. Donald’s head snapped up from where he’d been slumped. “I’m sorry she can’t be here, we’re going to be going soon,” Scrooge promised. They would be leaving soon?

Why, so that Scrooge could blame Donald for this whole fiasco? Donald hadn’t asked to come!!

Scrooge’s hand tightened on his shoulder, bringing Donald’s glazed eyes to squint at him. “Let go of me,” Donald hissed, the force of swiping his arm back causing him to fall back on the ground.

“Donald.” Scrooge started tentatively. Ohh no, he wasn’t going to try and make up for the things he’d literally just said.

“Shut up,” Donald told him. He got into a standing position, stumbling away from Scrooge, who still knelt there. Scrooge, who was now looking at him all sorry like, pitying, maybe. It was just like Donald had always dreamed, and now he was finally seeing it today.

“What are you saying-?”

“SHUT UP!” Donald snapped. “Look, if I just get this,” Donald sneered “-dumb treasure for you, will you leave me alone, finally?!” For so long, like the thoughts he had about his Uncle, confusing, and now it was all coming together. He’d caught him in the act, his Uncle’s face still looking as if he was going to lie to him and say it was okay that he’d messed up, when just a few seconds ago he was angry about it. Scrooge looked very concerned, in fact, but Donald’s mind was too much of a jumbled mess to care. /No, his mind was clearer than ever!/

“This time, no more lying.” Donald said, while Scrooge slowly got to his feet. Donald backed away slowly, promising, “If I get that treasure, we’re done again. Maybe for another ten years. I dunno.” Donald laughed, sickened by the notion itself, as if that would punish Scrooge enough.

“Donald, stop.”

Scrooge sounded serious, and Donald was afraid he was going to try and stop him. That would mean, that he would have to get it himself. Of course Scrooge would try and stop him, now that he was deemed useless again, not that Donald understood why Scrooge kept up the farse for so long. Donald started running the opposite direction.

He felt his insides tearing him apart, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting away, as if he was transported back twenty years, running back to his room with his guitar to shut himself away. When Della was getting praises by Scrooge for hours, he’d go back to his safe haven, where he could ignore that she was getting more fighting lessons, more flying lessons, and more attention than him.

As he ran, he sensed he knew the direction of his bedroom by heart, even though they were in some dark, crazy cave. /Show me,/ Donald’s lungs filled with cold air, /show me any time that I was truely happy./ He didn’t know who he was asking, but he needed to know.

/Right here,/ he felt, looking around the empty mansion. Della, Scrooge, not even Pennyworth were anywhere to be seen.

They must’ve left without me.

Then, he was on an island, fighting sea slugs and the likes that invaded the sandy coves. He’d fallen at one point, having tripped over a treasure chest and nearly getting sucked into the monster’s dens. Scrooge and Della had saved him on that one, before they all systematically worked together to get rid of the lot of them. 

After the treasure was gotten however, there was only stern reprimanding. Sure, Donald was sloppy, but so was Della? /Aw, who am I kidding, she was perfect./

/There was a time,/ he told himself, or somebody else told him, it didn’t make a difference. There was a light ahead of him that told him that. That meant he had to protect it.

Donald was grasped from behind, just as he was forging ahead towards that light. “Donald, stop, please.” He was being held very tightly, that Donald could barely move anymore. He was going to lose it, no!! 

“I can’t lose you again.” Donald stopped struggling at that. /No, he was falling for it!!/ He ignored the shouting in his head, and looked back at his Uncle, whom of which sounded and looked heartbroken. Why did he look like that?

It wasn’t as if Donald...Donald felt like he was waking up. Whatever voice was pushing him on towards that light, suddenly let go, and he too crumpled to the floor.

\---

Donald was in and out, for the next passage of time.

First, he remembered waking up slung over one of Scrooge’s shoulders, piggyback style. He grunted in pain, because being pulled up there initially really hurt his stomach for some reason.

He could hear Scrooge mutter a reply, before they continued on. Donald kept his eyes open for a little longer, watching the cavern walls pass and Scrooge looking around, making out which was to go. It was kind of interesting to watch for a bit, especially from this new, close up perspective of seeing his Uncle work out problems. 

He might’ve relaxed a little too much, because before long, he had passed out again.

The next time he woke up, there was water being forced down his throat, of which he reluctantly swallowed. Liquid was still trickling down from his beak when some rations were shoved in front of his face as well, leaving him without the option of slumping back to sleep without eating any food.

He lifted his arm and took it hesitantly, although nausea prevented him from actually eating it. Donald turned to the side and rejected any water that had just been fed to him.

Shortly after that, Donald remembered lying down, sweating heavily, but being so extremely chilly and hot. Scrooge’s face appeared above him, fanning off his head. Apparently, Scrooge’s coat had also found his person again, as he was tucked into it, Donald’s scarf removed once again to serve as a pillow. 

The chills wouldn’t stop, so eventually Scrooge himself stuck himself to his side, and Donald remembered that it got briefly hotter and more uncomfortable. When Scrooge started saying things soothingly to distract him, Donald felt a bit more cozy, and fell asleep once more.

The third time he awoke, he was still in that same position. He felt somewhat lucid, as he gathered that Scrooge was at his side with a protective grip around him. Fingers were carding through his head feathers, making Donald resist the temptation to move, even though it made him feel a little dizzy. It didn’t quite feel like preening or anything, just something unconsciously done, while waiting for time to pass.

He could feel Scrooge sigh against him.

“What am I going to do, Lad?” Scrooge spoke, although he wasn’t sure if he knew he was awake. Did Scrooge ever stop worrying? Probably as often as Donald self-doubted, Donald figured lightheartedly. The hands through his hair was making him forget any nasty thoughts he would have had though, as he decided to just rest and soak it up.

It was another couple moments, where they just lay there. As time went on though, Donald felt a little selfish, for not trying to help while, with each gentle pull of his feathers, reminded him that they /did/ have legitimate problems to worry about.

Scrooge must’ve felt him stir against him, because he greeted him with a, “How are you feelin’?” His Uncle’s hand left his head, leaving Donald to mourn for it while he untucked his chin from his chest.

Donald didn’t have the strength to be embarrassed about his position, like he normally would. He looked up at his Uncle’s face feeling empty with regret. Donald pushed back his thoughts of not deserving this attention for now, returning to the question at hand.

How did he feel? He didn’t feel as feverish anymore, by some miracle during some point in time when he was repeatedly passing out. That only made him feel guilty, for having put Uncle Scrooge through those long hours, of who-knows-how-many. Whatever qualms he had earlier, he swallowed his pride, and choked out, “Sorry.”

A warm embrace followed, to Donald’s surprise, where Scrooge pushed his head back to him and said, “Oh, it’s alright,” his words shot straight through Donald’s heart. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“But,” Scrooge was wrong, he meant what he’d said one hundred percent. The conversation before was a bit fuzzy, but still... 

This wasn’t right. Donald slipped his arms in between them, pushing away and shaking his head. “I did mean it.” He saw Scrooge’s mouth slip a bit.

“No, it was the illusimator,” Scrooge justified this by pulling out an amulet from his collar. “This item prevents the wearer from undergoing the powers of thrawl-” /Did Scrooge have an amulet for everything?/ “The Illusimator is a cursed treasure, that bewitches the user into feeling a deep desire to possess it. You,” Scrooge said, taking Donald’s eyes off of the amulet dangling in front of him. “-underwent that thrawl, the night you tried to run off.” 

“It also assisted in your condition worsening, no doubt,” he added. 

“But,” Scrooge continued, as Donald opened his mouth to speak. “I do...ehm, apologize. For how harsh I was to you.” Scrooge settled with, “You were feverish, and didn’t know any better.”

Donald didn’t even mull it over, although, that did explain some things. “No.” He repeated, “I meant what I said. I-” He was finally going to say it. “You said all you cared about was your treasure, and all I could think of was...” Donald remembered feeling a lot of things that night, a lot of them jumbled. Some parts of the conversation didn’t make sense.

“You were confused. I didn’t mean to say that you were less important than the treasure,” Scrooge said, “In fact, I was trying to say the opposite.” Donald laughed at the irony, and Scrooge pressed, “No, really! You were just, very confu-I mean, it was a misunderstanding.”

Donald sobered up. “That makes sense. But, that’s not the only reason I was uh...” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to place a word to how he was feeling. He thought of Della and him in the past, and then, fast forward to the present, he thought about the kids.

Scrooged ‘hmed,’ in response, allowing Donald to continue. “I felt cheated. Like, nothing I did was right by you.” Donald recalled the visions he was seeing, random snippets from his childhood, all just, now he realized, the Illusimator trying to drive him towards the treasure. 

“Or, by anyone. For a long time.” Donald shrunk down at his last admittance. He wasn’t sure what he was preparing for, but this was something probably only his therapist knew about. What was his Uncle, the strongest individual he knew, going to say about it?

Apparently nothing. At least, for a few painful seconds, before Scrooge said, “Now, why’d ye go thinking that, then?”

“Because-!” Donald started to raise his voice, dying down after remembering their close proximity. “I...can’t.” He remembered his Uncle yelling at him, after he tried to fix and bandage him up. It always felt like the same thing, Donald tries to help, he fails, and it’s either funny or tiresome to someone, especially himself.

Or Scrooge. Scrooge took a sharp inhale, his arms absentmindedly patting Donald on the back. “Oh, Donald, Donald, Donald...” The more time drew on, the more ready Donald felt he was going to sit back up and yell, haha, just kidding, forget it Uncle Scrooge! Not in a way that would be believable, but just anything to escape this awkward pause, of which he’d just poured his heart into.

“Earlier...” Scrooge began, as if sensing that earlier had been on Donald’s mind. “I was only hard on ye, because it’s one thing to be self-sacrificial, and it’s another thing to be extreme about it.” The pats on Donald’s back were beginning to feel less and less condescending. “That was very brave and thoughtful of you, to make sure that I got on okay. But I feel like, you could have given yourself some of that same treatment, like you’d,” Scrooge jabbed a finger in his back, in the middle of his thumping, saying “promised me you would. In fact, you /insisted/, you would.” Okay, Donald’s had enough, he pulled back, and tried sitting up.

Scrooge propped himself up, groaning a bit as he did so, while Donald went, “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“But you /didn’t/,” Scrooge stressed. “I see now that it had taken a toll on you, so I’m sorry for not realizing sooner. I’m...” Scrooge groaned again, making Donald scrunch his eyebrows in confusion at his behavior.

“Fine, I’ll tell you too. I-” Scrooge started, “I’m starting to learn, or I thought I was, that family takes a lot of dedication, which I’m finding worthy of my time,” he expressed, and scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve found a way to do it with the kids, but for us adults, since it’s a little late to do so, since you don’t want me ‘coddling’ you...”

That was a weird way of saying that he cared, Donald looked away, unsure where to piece this together. Scrooge continued, “And so I won’t. Since maybe you don’t, er, want, to be say... as close, as I have gotten with the rest of the family.” 

Scrooge thought he didn’t want to be close with him? “Why?” The question could have been directed at many things, so Scrooge stumbled a bit to follow.

“Why...Why...You’ve always been the more, withdrawn one, compared to your sister.” Pshh, that was funny, coming from Scrooge. As funny as it was, Donald realized he didn’t have an answer yet.

He was always fighting Scrooge on this new ‘family’ treatment, because he was scared of it. He’d always been told to tough it out, be ‘tougher than the toughies,’ or so he’d said. That was why he used to withdraw in himself, and that was why he was afraid to accept this newly found comfort. “...”

“Look, we don’t have to have everything figured out,” Scrooge voiced, breaking Donald out of his thoughts. “After all, if I’ve learned anything about family, it’s that family doesn’t have to have everything figured out, as long as we can trust eachother about it.”

\---

For the next passage of time, there was less passing out. Scrooge and Donald worked together to try and get out, although they argued just as much as they had when they were coming in.

But, there was a striking difference to it: a less existent undertone of bitterness. Insults were minimally veiled behind insecurities, and pushing and shoving never ceased the amuse the other in the typical asshole way. While they strived to dodge their current injuries, they were still the same, silly ducks, clumsy on Donald’s half and vengeful on Scrooge’s.

On the way out, Donald found that Scrooge had snatched the treasure earlier. Now, this was ‘typical Scrooge’, so Donald couldn’t stay mad at him for it, even though a small pain of yesterday’s feelings still had a sting about it. Scrooge made a remark how, the box meant for the treasure, Scrooge found in Donald’s backpack. Donald had mistaken it for an extra medicine storage area, even though it supposedly had ‘magic cancelling’ properties. Well, it looked like a normal brown box though, so it wasn’t as if Donald could have told the difference! That was also the reason why Donald didn’t feel as feverish when he’d woken up and they’d had their discussion earlier, when Scrooge found the last bits of disinfectant in that hiding place.

They found the opening eventually, which Scrooge immediately used for a signal to contact the Sunchaser. While it felt like things were falling back to normal, it almost didn’t feel concluded. 

However, the very least Donald could do, while Della and Launchpad piloted the plane, was to sit next to Scrooge on the way back. And then, maybe proceed to doze off on his shoulder, since, when else is a better time to start accepting Scrooge’s ‘coddling’ than the present. For new time’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH I CAN'T BELIEVE I ALREADY GOT TO THE CONCLUSION. 
> 
> Okay, technically, I have more ideas for them, but I figured that they all didn't have to be done in this one fic, since I've covered basically what I wanted, in terms of establishing what the two are thinking, in terms of this closer 'family' relationship.
> 
> I'm pretty satisfied tho. Leave a comment if you enjoyed!! I hope to come out with more soon~

**Author's Note:**

> I found a few really cute Scrooge trying to be a good uncle fics here, and really needed some more angsty/slow burn ones. Stay tuned, and hope you enjoy!! I'm really new to Ducktales fics haha


End file.
